


Idioms Overdone

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lads are bored on an obbo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idioms Overdone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tea and Swiss Roll Weekly Obbo - the Prompt was British idioms.  
> This version has an epilogue.  
> There's a link at the end to the idioms and their meanings.

“Noddy work, this.” Doyle stretched as best he could in the confined space of the Capri’s passenger seat.

Bodie smiled fondly as Doyle’s face scrunched up into a huge yawn. “Life isn’t always beer and skittles, mate.”

“Not sure why we got stuck on this boring obbo. The Cow knows nothing is going to happen here.” Doyle rubbed his hand over his face and then through his hair. “Not cricket, this.”

“Threw a spanner in your plans, did it?”

“The fair Francine…” Doyle sighed and looked out the side window.

“The bird from across the pond?” Bodie asked without real interest. 

Doyle shot him a sideward’s glance, his insides warming at the hint of jealousy in his partner’s question. “We agreed, mate. Got to keep up appearances.”

“All mouth and trousers aren’t you, old son.” Bodie reached out and ruffled Doyle’s curls.

“Don’t want to hear about us on the jungle telegraph, do we?” 

“No,” Bodie conceded. “Don’t want an early bath.”

“Here!” Doyle sat forward in the car seat. “Who’s that then?” He pointed at the front door of the house they were watching.

Bodie adjusted the binoculars. “Housekeeper. It’s her quitting time.” He watched until she had gone down the road to the bus stop. They both settled back in their seats, eyes trained on the house.

“Think this is punishment, then?” Doyle broke the silence.

“What are you on about?”

“Cowley. He’s been like a bear with a sore head since the end of the Carson op.” 

“Well if you will argue the toss --”

“I was right, damn him, Bodie. He put us on a sticky wicket.” Doyle looked at Bodie. “I almost lost you.”

“But you didn’t.” Bodie placed a hand on Doyle’s thigh. He could feel the tension in the muscle. It’s over, Ray. We grasped the nettle, didn’t we? Never in doubt. All in a day’s work and all that.”

“More front than Brighton, you have,” Doyle laughed. He covered the hand on his thigh with his own and threaded his fingers through Bodie’s. “We should tell him.”

Bodie froze. “That’ll go down like a cup of cold sick.” 

“Lost your bottle then? About us?” Doyle withdrew his hand.

“No. Never that.” Bodie sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. “Just not sure it’s a good idea. Why do you want to risk it?”

“I’m tired of being put in situations like the Carson op. I want to know what’s going on – the whole story. No guess work. No leaving your fate to chance.” He closed his eyes and shivered. “I almost lost you.”

“So you said.”

Doyle sat up, sucked in a deep breath ready to argue.

Bodie held up a hand. “What good will it do to tell him? We’ll get that early bath for sure.”

“I want him to know that he can’t risk our lives lightly. That I won’t let you just walk into a bullet because it pleases some objective of his.”

“You’ve told him that. Don’t need to reveal all our girlish secrets to get that message across, yeah?”  
Doyle sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But --”

“Let it go, Ray. 

“Shy bairns get nowt,” Doyle’s voice was a poor imitation of Cowley’s brogue.

It was Bodie’s turn to laugh. “I think--”

“Oi, break your duck then?”

“Ha-bloody-ha, Doyle.” Bodie looked down his nose at him.

“Sorry, mate.” Doyle didn’t look apologetic.

“I should cocoa.” Bodie ignored Doyle’s smirk.

Headlamps lit up the inside of the Capri. A Cortina pulled up next to them and Murphy rolled down the window.?”

“Relief is here, gentleman,” Murphy said. “Cowley doesn’t want to see you until noon tomorrow. Lucky sods.”  
Bodie saluted the other agent and started the car. He looked to Doyle with raised eyebrows.

“Home, James, and don’t spare the horses!”

 

The car pulled up in front of Doyle’s block. Bodie turned the engine off and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So, how’d I do?”

Doyle rolled his eyes. “You got 10, although you did use the bath one twice.” Doyle tapped his index finger on his pursed lip. “Not sure that should count, sunshine.” Doyle ignored the pout that Bodie pulled. “Probably should be a penalty...”

“Oi! Bodie punched Doyle’s shoulder lightly. “C’mon then. How many for you?”

“Ten as well – without a repeat.” Doyle reached for the door handle. As he moved to get out of the car, he sighed, “We really should find a better way to pass the time on these obbos.”

“I know a better way.” Bodie waggled arched eyebrows.

Doyle sat back in the passenger seat and filled the Capri with a low dirty laugh. “I’ll bet you do. And I’ll bet it involves mouths and trousers, yeah?” 

Bodie tapped the side of his nose with two fingers. “Raymond, I’m offended. You know me better than that!”

“Yeah, I know you.”

“Said the actress said to the bishop – hey, that gives me eleven!”

“Gives you ten.” Doyle got out of the car and leaned in the open window. Looking down at his recently vacated seat, he asked softly, “Do you wanna come up?”

Bodie giggled.

Doyle sighed in exasperation. “You priaprismic monster!”

Bodie got out of the car and followed Doyle to the door of his flat. Once out of the pool of light from the streetlamp he rested his hand on Doyle’s arse and gave the tight denim clad cheek a gentle squeeze.

Doyle jumped and shook his head. “You’ve got your nerve, you have.”

Bodie agreed. “Enough to cobble dogs with, mate.” A triumphant smile lit his face. “Twelve!”

**Author's Note:**

> Link to idioms:  
> http://www.usingenglish.com/reference/idioms/country/british+english.html


End file.
